Februaries tend to be hard for me thanks to memories of Jason's last few months on this earth. One thing I haven't been able to understand was why he would hurt me, but no one else, as the steroids took over. I understand the anger, having been on high doses myself, but to have someone so gentle turn so different just makes my heart break to remember.
January was when it started, kicking at me from his wheelchair. At first I just thought it was a way for him to get my attention, but he still could easily talk at that point. Slapping my hand away was common too.
Now, let me be clear, none of this was very violent, just heartbreaking (and lots of bruised shins). There wasn't anything to be done about it at the time. Brain cancer and steroids do strange things to brilliant minds. For someone with a Masters degree in computer science to lose his calculating capabilities must have been truly devastating for him. To lose him slowly while he became less him was devastating for me. And it wasn't just me. My Mom and Dad on his side felt it as well, though differently I'm sure to lose their son.
Mid-February he started having serious hallucinations that someone was breaking into house. He couldn't really walk on his own at that point and he wouldn't believe me I had checked the back door for the third time that night. I told him I wasn't going help him check it out for himself. Then he took a swing at me. I dropped him out of my arms and stepped back, just staring in disbelief as he tried to get up. Eventually the steroid rage subsided and we both got back into bed, but I never saw him the same after that. That was the day before Valentine's day.
No comments:
Post a Comment